King Solomon's Mines eBook

Boom! boom! boom! went the three heavy rifles, and
down came Sir Henry’s elephant dead as a hammer,
shot right through the heart. Mine fell on to
its knees and I thought that he was going to die, but
in another moment he was up and off, tearing along
straight past me. As he went I gave him the second
barrel in the ribs, and this brought him down in good
earnest. Hastily slipping in two fresh cartridges
I ran close up to him, and a ball through the brain
put an end to the poor brute’s struggles.
Then I turned to see how Good had fared with the big
bull, which I had heard screaming with rage and pain
as I gave mine its quietus. On reaching the captain
I found him in a great state of excitement. It
appeared that on receiving the bullet the bull had
turned and come straight for his assailant, who had
barely time to get out of his way, and then charged
on blindly past him, in the direction of our encampment.
Meanwhile the herd had crashed off in wild alarm in
the other direction.

For awhile we debated whether to go after the wounded
bull or to follow the herd, and finally deciding for
the latter alternative, departed, thinking that we
had seen the last of those big tusks. I have
often wished since that we had. It was easy work
to follow the elephants, for they had left a trail
like a carriage road behind them, crushing down the
thick bush in their furious flight as though it were
tambouki grass.

But to come up with them was another matter, and we
had struggled on under the broiling sun for over two
hours before we found them. With the exception
of one bull, they were standing together, and I could
see, from their unquiet way and the manner in which
they kept lifting their trunks to test the air, that
they were on the look-out for mischief. The solitary
bull stood fifty yards or so to this side of the herd,
over which he was evidently keeping sentry, and about
sixty yards from us. Thinking that he would see
or wind us, and that it would probably start them
off again if we tried to get nearer, especially as
the ground was rather open, we all aimed at this bull,
and at my whispered word, we fired. The three
shots took effect, and down he went dead. Again
the herd started, but unfortunately for them about
a hundred yards further on was a nullah, or dried-out
water track, with steep banks, a place very much resembling
the one where the Prince Imperial was killed in Zululand.
Into this the elephants plunged, and when we reached
the edge we found them struggling in wild confusion
to get up the other bank, filling the air with their
screams, and trumpeting as they pushed one another
aside in their selfish panic, just like so many human
beings. Now was our opportunity, and firing away
as quickly as we could load, we killed five of the
poor beasts, and no doubt should have bagged the whole
herd, had they not suddenly given up their attempts
to climb the bank and rushed headlong down the nullah.
We were too tired to follow them, and perhaps also
a little sick of slaughter, eight elephants being a
pretty good bag for one day.